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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27968438">For Now</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/story_monger/pseuds/story_monger'>story_monger</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Animaniacs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:20:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27968438</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/story_monger/pseuds/story_monger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Yakko's brain stops working. It's not like he can do much to fix it. Still, there's something to be said for siblings who will ride it out with him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dot Warner &amp; Wakko Warner &amp; Yakko Warner</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>236</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>For Now</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yakko stared into the ceiling of the water tower, open book held loosely in his lap. His limbs were heavy and his vision had gone slightly grainy at the edges. Which—he knew that wasn’t good, but he also never knew what he was supposed to do about it.</p><p>The door to the water tower creaked opened, and Yakko glanced over long enough to catch sight of the red cap. Wakko would probably want to claim the couch so he could watch TV, which Yakko wasn’t opposed to. Something loud and rambunctious might help dissipate the mental fog.</p><p>“Yakko?”</p><p>Wakko leaned over him, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. Yakko frowned. Wakko’s voice was small and tight, his expression strained.</p><p>The grainy fogginess cleared slightly, if just enough for Yakko to say, “You okay?”</p><p>Wakko gave a tiny shake of his head. “’m head hurts,” he said.</p><p>Wordlessly, Yakko tossed his book to the floor and held out his arms. Wakko crawled onto the couch and curled up nearly on top of Yakko, his forehead pressed into his neck. Yakko ran a hand up and down Wakko’s back.</p><p>“How long?” he asked.</p><p>“Dunno,” Wakko mumbled into his collarbone.</p><p>Yakko sighed. “Okay. You just got back from the recording studio, right? Did your head hurt when you went in?”</p><p>Wakko was still for a moment before responding, “No.”</p><p>“Did you eat while you were in there?”</p><p>“Not allowed,” Wakko muttered darkly. “They confiscated my nachos.”</p><p>“As they’re wont to do,” Yakko said sagely. “Sounds like low blood sugar, Wak.”</p><p>“But I drank a soda on my way home and it hasn’t helped,” Wakko said petulantly.</p><p>“Eh, you know how these things go, baby bro.” Yakko brought his hand up to lightly scritch at the base of Wakko’s skull. “Once a headache gets started, sometimes it like to stick around.”</p><p>“Stupid.”</p><p>“You tell ‘em. You taken any pain meds?”</p><p>Wakko shook his head slightly. “Didn’t have any.”</p><p>Frowning, Yakko shifted just enough to try and materialize something from his hammerspace. He looked down at his empty hand through the grainy haze. Geeze. He really was out of it.</p><p>“Uhh, sorry Wak,” he said, still staring at his hand. “I’m clean out.”</p><p>Wakko made a small sound of acknowledgement but otherwise didn’t move. Yakko went back to running his hand across Wakko’s back, staring numbly at the ceiling.</p><p>“Need to get you some Advil,” Yakko said aloud, more to himself than to his brother. There might be a bottle in the bathroom. And to find that, he’d need to get off the couch. “Wakko,” Yakko said. “Bud, I’m gonna need you to let me up.”</p><p>Wakko groaned but complied, pulling himself to a sit. His hands slipped over his eyes and he bent over, his forehead pressed into his knees. Yakko’s heart sank. Poor kid. It might be a migraine.</p><p>Yakko struggled to a sit as well, pausing at the groundswell of dizziness. When the world settled again, he swung his feet to the floor and braced his hands against his thighs, willing himself to stand. He could do it, he just needed to find a moment of clarity in the grainy fog. That, or force his way through.</p><p>“Up and at ‘em,” Yakko muttered under his breath, hauling himself to a stand. He grunted at cramped muscles that had been stuck in one position for too long, then let his body’s autopilot take over and direct him toward the bathroom.</p><p>The bathroom needed to be cleaned. Yakko had been meaning to get around to it but—well, the last few weeks had been more of a downswing. As it was, Yakko spent nearly ten minutes rooting through the drawers and cabinets, shoving aside broken combs and old toothbrushes and a couple anvils and one ill-tempered goat. He was in the middle of shoving the goat back into the medicine cabinet when Dot appeared at the doorway.</p><p>“I gotta pee, can you hurry up?” she demanded.</p><p>“Yeah yeah,” Yakko grunted, slamming the medicine cabinet shut. A disgruntled bleat echoed from somewhere inside. “You got any Advil on you? Wakko’s got a headache.”</p><p>“Nooo—” Dot hopped from foot to foot. “I dunno, let me pee and I’ll look afterwards.”</p><p>“Knock yourself out.” Yakko sidestepped Dot and headed back into the main room as the bathroom door slammed shut behind him. He found Wakko now curled up on the couch, face buried in the crook of his arm.</p><p>“Operation Pain Med is still pending,” Yakko said, leaning down to rub Wakko’s upper arm. He grinned. “Or should I say, still pain-ding. Geddit?”</p><p>“Mph,” Wakko replied.</p><p>“Won’t hold it against you. You’re not in the right condition to appreciate my comedic genius.” Yakko straightened and placed his hands on his hips, glancing toward the kitchen. “Think orange juice would help?”</p><p>“Mmm. Mm-hm.”</p><p>“Rodger dodger, comin’ right up.”</p><p>When Yakko returned from the kitchen, he found Dot perched on the couch beside Wakko, shaking out two pills from a little plastic bottle.</p><p>“They’re almost expired,” she was saying. “But they should still work. It says not to take on an empty stomach, but I don’t need worry about that with you, huh?”</p><p>Yakko leaned over the top of the couch, orange juice in hand. Wakko accepted both pills and the glass of juice, tossed everything into his mouth, and immediately buried his face back into his arms. Dot snorted and shoved her hand into the couch cushions.</p><p>“You guys want to watch something?” Her hand emerged with the remote, and she flicked on the TV without waiting for a response.</p><p>“Mmkay,” Wakko mumbled, and scooted close enough to Dot that he could lay his head in her lap. She absentmindedly rubbed at the base of his ears and began flicking through the channels. Yakko stayed where he was, leaning against the couch and staring heavily at the TV. His limbs had become abruptly leaden again.</p><p>“What’re you doing?”</p><p>Yakko looked down to find Dot watching him, her eyebrows drawn together.</p><p>“Maybe I like standing,” Yakko said, leaning his head against one hand. “Y’know, studies show that the sedentary lifestyle of the modern American threatens to double the risk of a premature death. Think about that, sis.”</p><p>“Yakko.”</p><p>“Yah-huh?”</p><p>“We’re unaging toons. It doesn’t work like that for us.”</p><p>“And what makes you so sure?”</p><p>Dot leaned her head back and examined Yakko for a moment. “Bad day for you too, huh?” she finally said.</p><p>Yakko shoulders gave a small start. He dragged his gaze back to the TV and didn’t answer. Dot lifted her head and plowed through another few channels.</p><p>“What am I doing?” she said abruptly. “It’s 2020. No one flips through channels anymore.” She shook the remote, and the Netflix logo popped onto the screen. “There we go,” she said, leaning back. “Let’s see how far down the page I can scroll before we decide there’s nothing to watch. Yakko, come help me with this.” She reached up one hand, grabbed him by the neck, and dragged him down onto the couch.</p><p>“Ack,” Yakko protested. His legs landed somewhere near his head, which was somewhere near the floor. Wakko let out a muffled giggle while Yakko stuggled to straighten himself out.</p><p>“Thought you had a headache,” Yakko muttered once he’d gotten himself into a proper sitting position, rubbing at the back of his neck.</p><p>“Still funny,” Wakko said.</p><p>“Ooh here we go,” Dot said. “There’s a whole category for Promising Original Netflix Series That Got Cancelled Midway Through Season Three.”</p><p>“Isn’t this—ah—a bit of fraternizing with the enemy?” Yakko asked as he leaned back into the couch, crossing his legs.</p><p>“Consider it intelligence gathering,” Dot replied airily. She pressed into his side, and his arm flopped around her shoulder without thinking. “How d’you guys feel about opposites-attract duos solving mysteries in the big city?” she asked.</p><p>“Didn’t know Paula Abdul got a Netflix series,” Wakko mumbled. “Good f’r her.”</p><p>Yakko laughed despite himself and settled more comfortably against Dot. “Ehhh, I’ve heard that track. Now here’s something new. You ready for this? Opposites-attract duos solving mysteries in”—he gestured grandly with his free hand—"quaint small-town Americana.”</p><p>“Mysteries in small, mysterious towns?” Dot leaned back and gaped. “Yakko, you mad genius, you’ve cracked it.”</p><p>“Call my producer,” Yakko barked in a ‘40s radio voice. “I’ve got the idea of the century. We’ll make millions.”</p><p>Wakko wriggled enough to peek up at his siblings. “No seriously guys,” he said. “Do Paula Abdul and Scat Kat have a TV show?”</p><p>“Ah, wouldn’t be surprised, sib,” Yakko said, leaning over to bop his nose. “What’s a bizarre revival of an obscure music video among friends, am I right?”</p><p>Wakko scrunched his nose in a way that told Yakko he still wasn’t sure what was going on. The next moment, Wakko grinned slightly, rubbed at his eyes, and turned to press his forehead against Dot’s midsection.</p><p>“Sure Yakko,” he said amiably. “Whatever you say.”</p><p>Dot snorted. She was still focused on the screen, where titles sped past in a blur. Yakko watched the screen without really seeing it. The graininess in his vision, which had dissipated slightly with the stimulus of talking to his siblings, was rushing in again. It took him a moment to register that Dot was talking.</p><p>“Yakko!” She elbowed him hard in the ribs, making him yelp. “I said do you want to watch The Great Australian Barbie-Off?”</p><p>Yakko blinked at her. “I guess—if Wakko does—”</p><p>“I already said I did,” Wakko piped up. “I like barbecue.”</p><p>“Oh.” Yakko blinked again. He’d usually have something pithy to add at this point—he <em>should</em>—he’d been throwing out his usual chatter a moment ago. But now his brain had gone back to acting like a rusty bike stuck between gears. Nothing landed where it was supposed to.</p><p>Dot heaved a massive sigh for such a small thing, set down the remote, and wrapped her arms around Yakko’s torso, making him startle slightly. He looked down as she pressed her forehead against his chest.</p><p>“Wish I could fix it,” she mumbled.</p><p>Wakko hummed in agreement and wriggled forward so that he landed partially in Yakko’s lap as well, wrapping his own arms around his brother’s waist. “Wish it was like taking Advil,” Wakko added.</p><p>Yakko grinned slightly and gripped at both siblings’ arms. “I do have a sort of Advil,” he reminded them. “It’s just not—it’s not a miracle cure.”</p><p>“Yeah I <em>know </em>that I just—” Dot made a frustrated sound into Yakko’s chest. Yakko laughed without meaning to.</p><p>“Yeah,” he said. He shifted his hand up to cradle the back of her head. “I know.”</p><p>They sat in silence for a long while, the only sound the mild hum of the television. Yakko stared at the screen as it played and replayed a preview for The Great Australian Barbie-Off, and he wasn’t too surprised when his eyes began to prickle and sting. Hard to tell if it was borne of gratitude or frustration or sadness or something else. Probably all of the above.</p><p>Finally, Yakko shifted slightly. “Kinda wanna watch these Aussies cook up some shrimp,” he said in a gentle voice.</p><p>“Mm shrimp,” Wakko’s muffled voice said, and he pulled his face from Yakko’s midsection. “We should get seafood next time we eat out.”</p><p>“Ew, no, I hate seafood,” Dot protested.</p><p>“No you don’t, you had fish tacos last week,” Wakko pointed out.</p><p>“That’s different.”</p><p>“How’s that different?”</p><p>“We’ll see about the seafood,” Yakko interrupted. He looked down at Wakko. “How’s the head?”</p><p>“Better,” Wakko grinned. “Talking helps distract from what hurts.”</p><p>“It does, doesn’t it?” Yakko shifted, pulling Dot firmly into his side and making sure Wakko’s head was comfortable in his lap. “C’mon Dot, hit play.”</p><p>Yakko didn’t really pay attention to the show; the hazy graininess made that difficult. His eyes were still raw and stinging, and he had to quickly wipe at them every once in a while. Whenever he did, Dot would glance at him, a small indent between her eyebrows. He’d replace his arm around her shoulder and she’d lean into him again, gripping his hand in one of hers while her other hand remained on Wakko’s legs sprawled across her lap. He knew how she felt. He’d experienced that particular brand of helplessness before, and he wished he could have spared her the worry, the distraction.</p><p>But the situation was what it was, and they’d all have to deal with it. Yakko tried not to dwell on that fact. Instead, he tried to focus on the warm, living weight of his siblings. It was no cure. But still.</p><p>It would do for now.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Did I just write mental health angst featuring kids cartoon characters? You bet your sweet ass I did.</p><p>
  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xweiQukBM_k&amp;list=FLg4bCEqftD_hHB8-f4Ux8mQ&amp;index=5">For those confused about Paula Abdul and Scat Kat</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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